The Good, The Bad & The (Not Too) Ugly

Everyone has good and bad days, precariously balanced on the scale of life. While the realist in me knows that there will inexorably be terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad days, the ultimate goal is to tip the scale towards the positive side as often as possible. (Can I hear a “Heck yeah!”?)

scale-good-and-bad

The past few days the scales have definitely been on my side.

First off, the check that I wrote to the courthouse to pay for the filing fee finally cleared. While it astounds me that it took this long, I’m hoping that it means I’ll actually be getting a divorce sometime this century. Yes, I’m paying for this divorce despite the fact that I didn’t (*originally) want it. If you want something done, it’s often prudent to do it yourself. If I had asked The Douche to pay for it (and deservedly so) it would have never happened. I wrote the check as a parting gift and vowed it was the last thing he would ever get from me. The prospect of being able to officially, legally close the door to this part of my life is worth every penny.

Secondly, I got a promotion at work. I get to keep much of my old position, which I enjoy, but will be joining the Management Team. It gives me an opportunity to expand my leadership responsibilities and actively advocate for my team. And of course feeling appreciated and recognized for one’s dedication and skill is validating.

Finally, I’ve decided that the mirror is not my enemy. A positive self-image, particularly in the “looks” department, has never been my strong suit. The honest, hard truth is that I’m a dandelion, not a rose, and I’m ok with that. (At least I’m not stink-weed!) However, a very pretty, blue-eyed Irish boy, the kind of boy who could have any flower in the garden he wanted, has been flatteringly attentive. It’s casual, uncomplicated and safe; neither of us is available or interested in emotional entanglements, but it certainly makes me feel good about myself. It’s nice to feel attractive without any demands or expectations for a “future”.

Let’s just disregard the fact that he’s 9 years my junior. For the official record, he approached me. *blush* Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.

mrsrobinson


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